Playground
by ninepen
Summary: Enjoying the good life at a Manhattan playground, Tony meets someone he didn't expect to...and then someone he *really* didn't expect to. Sometimes "hero" and "villain" are a matter of perspective.
1. Tony

-.-

 _ **Playground**_

 **Chapter 1: Tony**

 _In some imagined future, several years after Avengers: Infinity War..._

* * *

Tony waved goodbye to the Dominican nanny and the little boy she was pushing in the stroller, barely even noticing how breathtakingly hot she was.

Okay, so he noticed.

He was married, not dead, as the saying went.

Look, don't touch, as the other saying went.

He settled back on the bench, straightening his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle, stretching his arms out along the back of the bench. Work didn't drive him like it used to, and he didn't even miss it.

This was the life. The sun warmed his face, and in his jeans, vintage Ms. Pac-Man T-shirt – a gift from his little Pumpkin – and sunglasses, he could relax in anonymity, or as close as he ever got to it anymore. After all, unless you were a connoisseur you couldn't know at a glance that his tennis shoes were custom-made and cost just shy of eight hundred dollars, or that they were on the feet of Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, philanthropist. No, not a playboy anymore. Tony was solidly a one-woman man now. Well, two-woman man, if you wanted to be nit-picky about it.

It hadn't been easy, in the beginning. He'd had his moments of nerves, sure – nerves and spine-crushing fear – but when it came right down to it, he knew what he wanted, and he was ready. He wanted Pepper at his side 'til death do them part, and he wanted a family of their own. But man oh man was he not ready. He knew babies couldn't control their bodily functions. He knew they woke up all hours of the night, he knew they screamed a lot. Knowing it intellectually and experiencing it were two different things. If the health of a set of lungs could be correlated with the volume and length of the sounds that came out of them, that kid had the healthiest set of lungs of all kids in the history of kids. Pepper had struggled with postpartum depression and a see-saw of emotions – yeah, his little Pumpkin was on the see-saw now – over juggling the work she didn't want to give up and the baby she wanted to stay home with. Tony had vomited the first time he changed the kid's diaper.

Things had been strained between them for a little while, both of them sleep-deprived and struggling to adapt to parenting – a way harder job than he'd expected – but one night when Pepper came back to bed from feeding their bottomless-pit-stomach baby again…well. If he hadn't known for sure he was in it for keeps before, he did after that.

" _We shouldn't have done it. It was selfish. Stupid."_

Something like that. And so much more.

" _I can't do this. I'm a failure. Some women aren't meant to be mothers."_

He'd been too tired, both physically and emotionally, to argue, too tired to stop her. Too tired to do anything but hold her and cry. And at some point, he'd started talking, too. Confessing all his own fears and worries, some of which he'd never before put into words, even inside his own head.

" _What kind of example am I for a kid? Nobody should grow up to be like me. I'm selfish and I can be kind of a jerk and I like big open spaces because my ego needs the room. What if I turn into my father? What if I never turn into a father, period? I'm like an overgrown kid myself and diapers are so blech."_

They'd cried more, held each other more, and it was the most unsexy – snot, gross – and most incredibly intimate thing he'd ever experienced.

" _You're an amazing mother. You know that little lullaby you sing, the one where she usually quiets down and looks right into your eyes? I can see how much you love her, and how much she loves you. Melts my heart, babe. My muscles and bones, too. Seriously. I have to peel myself up from the floor after I've congealed into a semi-solid again."_

" _You're so disgusting," she said back, hoarse throat, red swollen eyes, snotty nose, lips pulling into a hint of a smile, chest trembling with laughter struggling to make it out. "Do you really think I'm a good mother?"_

Tony would never forget it. The fear in her face. The vulnerability. He'd had no idea she truly doubted that.

" _Babe, you are an_ incredible _mother. I know how tired you are, and no matter what time it is, you're always ready with the good stuff. I feel like all I do is sit around and whine, and you're still running the company_ and _being a mom, and…and you_ did _that. That gorgeous little girl in there? All I did was provide some seasoning. You did that. You leave me in awe."_

" _That's not all you did. That's not all you do. You're an amazing father, Tony. You're not selfish at all. The way you are with her, I've never seen anybody be so selfless. She brings out a whole new side of you."_

They'd talked until they fell asleep, Tony's big spoon to Pepper's little spoon.

And things got better.

Not overnight, but they got there.

Pepper was right, their little Peach Buns – Pepper got onto him for calling their daughter that but he did anyway sometimes, when Pepper wasn't around – had made him selfless, at least when it came to his little Tooter. Pepper got onto him for that one, too, but Pepper wasn't the boss of him – his company, yes, him, no. No, their little Munchkin – Pepper-approved – held that title.

The heavens had burst open and the sun had shone right on his little Angel – also Pepper-approved – the moment that one little syllable, repeated five times instead of two, came out of her mouth. She was looking at a spoon she'd knocked from her tray – deliberately, the little rascal – onto the floor when she said it, but that didn't matter.

" _Da-da." ("Da-da-da-da-da.")_

Tony's heart had exploded and gushed more love than he'd known it was possible for a single heart to contain and if her next words had been "I want a unicorn with pink fur" he would have raced off to bioengineer one for her right then and there. Instead, when he picked her up to nuzzle her nose and tell her how brilliant she was and _yes_ he was her da-da, she blew air bubbles and spat mushy carrot at him. And he didn't even care.

Ah, the good old days. Tony chuckled. No, the post-potty-training period was way better. He could have real conversations with his Pumpkin now, and she was by far the most interesting person he'd ever met. She was smart as a whip. As opinionated as her mother and as throw-caution-to-the-wind as her father, not a good thing, actually, how fearless that little thrill-seeker was. She thought store-bought toys were boring, made for unfortunate kids whose daddies didn't know how to help them build their own exactly the way they wanted them. Her dollhouse had electricity, a working elevator, a garage filled with a voice-programmable vintage car collection, and a configurable race track. She had recently decided she wanted to add a farm to go with the house, and had given him a list of animals she wanted to include. She already had the hang of basic 3D-modeling, so after playground-lunch-nap – yes, both of them – they would pick up where they'd left off designing the sheep.

Not a shy one, his girl, he thought with a smile as he watched her get off the see-saw and grab onto the hand of the boy who'd been on the other end of it, practically dragging him along until he got with the program and decided to obey orders, which apparently were to join her on the little jungle gym of a house with rope stairs, regular stairs, and two slides connecting it to the ground. She was going to be a real force of nature when she hit her teens. Tony didn't like to think about it. Nope, she could stay four forever and Tony would be quite happy with that. Even sending her to school was going to kill him. Her, too. She would be bored to tears. But he and Pepper couldn't decide if they wanted to give her the typical education Tony never had, which might be better for her social development, or accelerate it with a customized private education, which might be better for keeping her engaged in learning.

He snickered watching his girl slowly crab-crawl her way backwards up the rope ladder. Because of course doing it the regular way would be boring. The boy scrambled up after her, on the side along the outer frame of the rope stairs, wrapping his legs around it, feet somehow finding the rope at the awkward angle. Maybe all kids were weird and hard-headed, and not just his. His was still the best, though, clearly. It wasn't even a competition.

"Be careful, kids!" some lady called over from the slide, where she was holding onto a toddler too scared to go down. The boy's mother, probably. Tony rolled his eyes. His girl was fine thank you very much, hands solidly on the rope rungs behind her as she climbed and finally reached the top. The first time his Pumpkin had encountered a slide? She'd shoved Da-da's hands out of the way and slid down like a winter Olympian on a luge. Pepper had disputed that description, but Tony would die on that hill.

He glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the Munchkin's feat, but just one other person was looking her way – one of the few other men at the playground. Even the woman with the scaredy-cat toddler wasn't paying attention anymore. Their loss.

Bored with the tree house already – she _did_ bore easily, but Tony could relate, so did he – his little girl was now running over to the rocking horses, classic playground spring riders; her new friend was leading the way this time. As his eyes followed her over to the rocking camel she chose, he again noticed the man, standing between him and his daughter. That guy's head turned as she passed by. Watching her.

Tony sat up straight, arms coming to his sides, legs bending to stand. That man was watching his little girl. The other kid's mom was still preoccupied with her younger one and hadn't noticed.

Tony's eyes swept carefully over the other man from behind as he approached. The guy didn't really seem like he fit in here, and his stiff stance, the straight line of his shoulders, announced that he knew it. He wore pressed black slacks and a long-sleeved dark gray sweater with the look of fine wool despite the midday August heat, and he had a skeezy little ponytail of black hair hanging down just over the edge of the collar. The fancy clothes didn't do much to get rid of the creep-hanging-out-at-a-playground vibe the guy was oozing now that Tony was paying attention. Just made him look like a rich creep hanging out at a playground.

 _Stay calm. Stay calm,_ he warned himself. He didn't want to stay calm. Kids were here. _His_ kid was here, and he wanted to rip that guy a new one, scare the solids right out of him so bad he never dared show his face anywhere kids were gathered ever again. But _his kid_ was here, and he didn't want to make too much of a scene and scare _her_ instead of the creep.

Friday would get top-notch high-res images of this chump, and Tony would make sure those images got not only to the police, but to every playground, park, school, every single building throughout New York. The state, not the city.

Still a few feet away, with Tony's eyes fixed like death rays on Stranger Danger incarnate, the guy visibly tensed. Tony prepared himself for the confrontation, or more likely since guys like this were usually cowards when they had to deal with actual adults, a chase. Screw calm. Tony wasn't going to let this guy run, not before getting those crystal-clear images at least. So he slowed, watching for what the other guy would do, ready to react.

Slowly – deceptively slowly, Tony couldn't help thinking, for the man had the physique of someone who could lay on the speed if he wanted to – the creep twisted around, feet still firmly planted on shock-absorbent playground flooring.

Tony's body reacted before his conscious brain caught up. Fists clenched at his side, breaths heavy under tightening chest. Attack mode instincts. The actual name only surfaced when their eyes finally met.

 _Loki._

 _Loki_ was stalking his _kid_. Calling the Avengers flashed through his mind, but the idea was dismissed before being fully formed. This was Loki, and this was personal.

 _Oh, this is so personal,_ he thought, hand twitching, ready to bring out the nanotech gauntlets, as Loki had the _gall_ to turn around and look at his little girl again. She was talking to the other kid, thankfully oblivious to what was going on a couple dozen feet away.

"Hey," Tony called, close enough now to speak in a normal voice, no shouting. "Eyes right here, low-life."

"Tony," Loki said, turning to face him fully now. "I wish I could say this was a pleasant surprise. In fact, I wish I could say it was a surprise at all."

Loki was calm, his voice quiet. That was fine with Tony. If he had to fight, he would. But under the circumstances, he infinitely preferred sending Loki packing without it. There weren't many people around anymore – it was lunchtime and hot – but there were a few, and most importantly one of them was his little girl.

"No, I'd say it was pretty obvious. Whatever evil plan was behind you showing up here today? Worst plan you've ever had in your long miserable life, and you've had some real doozies of dumb evil plans. So if you don't want to be blasted out of the state, I strongly suggest, no, let's go ahead and say I _insist_ you pack it up and leave here of your own free will while you still have it."

"I have a right to come here as much as anyone else, Stark," Loki rumbled in a deep voice, almost a growl. The guy's false politeness sure hadn't lasted long. "You know that I was pardoned here due to my role in defeating Thanos."

"Yep. Doesn't mean you get to creep on people's kids. Thought that was kinda clear from, you know, a basic human decency standpoint. Oh, wait, you're not human, are you? Maybe you never picked up human decency, or any other kind. But Lesson One? You don't mess with kids. Period. Got it? Now beat it."

Tony watched as Loki's mouth worked but never formed words. His eyes were hidden behind heavily-tinted sunglasses, but most importantly, his legs weren't moving.

"You seem indecisive. It's not that complicated. But if you need help deciding, trust me, I'm fully prepared to help. I'd just prefer not to have to do that kind of helping around kids. See? Basic human decency."

"You have no understanding of the concept," Loki snapped. "But because _I_ do not wish any children to come to harm because of your arrogance, we will leave. And you had best stay away. I will not always be so accommodating."

"We? Who's this 'we'? You don't seriously think you're taking anyone here _with_ you."

Loki stepped forward, pulled off his glasses, and holy reindeer, Rudolph was _tall_. He extended a finger and touched Tony's chest and Tony thought maybe he wasn't going to let Loki leave with that finger, either.

"If you try to interfere with me in any way I will ensure your suffering knows no bounds. There exist lines that must not be crossed, Stark, and you are treading dangerously close to one of them right now."

"Okay, I always thought you were a little bit nuts but now I think you must have lost whatever marbles you still had rattling around in your skull. Do you honestly think I would _not_ 'interfere' with you on this? Move on, Loki. If I see you again I'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"You are a despicable, self-righteous, heartless-"

If Loki kept talking, Tony didn't hear it. All he heard was his little girl's scream. And it hadn't come from the direction of the rocking horses where she'd just been.

"Morgan!" he shouted, taking off at a run in the general direction of the voice he'd know anywhere, in any form. _Distraction,_ he kept thinking. _It was all a distraction, and I couldn't shut up, and it worked, and if anything happens to her…_ Gut-wrenching half-formed images filled his mind's eye but he wasn't going to be distracted again. He saw her now, close enough that he didn't bother with the suit and flying. She was on the ground, under a tree, no one else around except for that same little boy she'd been playing with earlier, who was now crouched over her.

"What happened, Pumpkin? Are you okay?" he asked, eyes jumping back and forth from his bawling little girl to scanning the surroundings for signs of danger. Like Loki, who had just run up beside him and was now attempting to herd the boy away.

Tony straightened up as much as he could while keeping a hand firmly on Morgan's shoulder. "Get your hands off…"

The words faded as Tony got a good look at the boy for the first time. Straight black hair, brown eyes, and by God that was Loki's nose and chin.

"My own son?" Loki asked, and Tony wouldn't have been at all surprised had that tongue dripped literal acid.

* * *

 _Notes_

No connection to any of my other stories, other than the same general understanding of the characters. Four chapters are envisioned; at the time of this chapter's release 2.5 are written. Expect the first three to come fairly quickly; they make a whole pretty much on their own. Chapter 4 may come with a longer delay; it's more of a coda...or something. This story came to life because someone said something about Loki and Tony and a kid on a playground. Thanks to "ildragodoro" for some help on the summary for this story when I was a bit too tired to do it on my own! Hope you enjoy.


	2. Loki

._.

 _ **Playground**_

 **Chapter 2: Loki**

Standing in the middle of the children's park was nerve-wracking. A children's park in Manhattan no less. Someone could _recognize_ him here. On Asgard his black hair and pale features made him stand out. Here, less so, thankfully, but circumstances were vastly different: here there was real risk if he was recognized. He wouldn't have sought out a fight, regardless, but he wasn't afraid of one. He didn't frighten easily and he was in no real danger, regardless.

He wasn't worried about himself.

It was Jane's idea to come here today. She had insisted on him coming to this park, this playground, and forbidden him in no uncertain terms from ordering more delivery for lunch. Luckily for her, he was an obedient husband. At least when he was forced to recognize that she was correct.

" _You can't keep kids shut up inside all day, Loki. They need sunshine. Outdoor play time. And if this keeps up, we're going to have to pay for this whole hotel room."_

" _I will buy you the entire hotel, my sweet."_

" _You don't have any money. Not until they come up with currency conversion rates for Asgard. Or until you get a job."_

" _You have a point," he said, hiding the effect her words had on him behind a rakish grin._

It was a sore subject for him. Jane wanted to start spending more time on Midgard. She missed her research, the way that it was conducted here, and being part of the scientific community, which simply didn't exist, not in the same sense, on Asgard. She also wanted their son to feel as much a part of and at home on Midgard as he did on Asgard.

The problem with all of this was that on Midgard Loki couldn't even buy his son a bottle of water to quench his thirst unless Jane gave him the money for it. Or unless he created counterfeit money for it, but Jane had advised him – in strong language, the third time she found out he'd done it – that that was a very serious offense he could go to prison for here. His responding smirk hadn't gone over well, and now he only made his own money in absolute emergencies. It didn't help that he wasn't _used_ to having to actually carry money with him and often forgot to bring it, nor did he yet have any of those little pieces of hard plastic that also functioned as money here. His lack of items such as "social security numbers" and "credit history," it turned out, was proving an impediment to the latter.

On Asgard, a man was expected to support his family. It could be entirely mutual – a wife could work as she wished, could even earn more than her husband, or have a more prestigious post. But for men, working was not optional. Unless he was fully incapacitated – a situation which all but never arose on Asgard – a husband did not stay at home and do nothing.

Almost a year ago, the disagreement had started boiling over into a conflict between them – a serious conflict that couldn't be laughed off or resolved by one of them compromising or giving in. And then one night, after their worst argument yet, Jane didn't come home until four in the morning, drunk and ignoring him as she curled up into bed with their child instead of with him. He'd known where she was – he'd gone to Heimdall in a growing panic – but he hadn't gone after her. Jane made her own decisions. And Loki was terrified her next one would be to leave him.

He'd done a lot of thinking that night.

In the morning he'd sent his excited son off to spend the day with his uncle, then pampered Jane as she slowly recovered from the effects of too much Asgardian ale, and after she'd showered, brushed her teeth, had something to eat, and could speak in complete sentences again, he apologized profusely for shouting, for disrespecting her, for not listening, for not taking her needs seriously enough, and, most critically, for not recognizing that she was right and he was wrong. His dignity could handle the blow. And thankfully, his conscience could handle the lie.

If telling Jane his beliefs had changed, and he would be happy to go to Midgard with her for her to pursue her career here, because he wanted what she wanted, if that would keep her by his side, then so be it. He would pay whatever price required to keep his family intact, to see Jane happy, to have her continued love, even if it meant he had to set aside his own pride and stay home washing dishes and doing laundry all day.

When she returned home excited from her day's work, he would greet her with a kiss, massage her aches away from shoulders to feet, make love to her as fiercely or tenderly as she wished, and present her with the whitest whites and brightest brights she had ever seen. (She had already informed him they would not be taking their servants with them, or even hiring new ones on Midgard.)

And it worked.

Jane had cried, and so had he.

" _Are you sure? I want you to be happy, too."_

He'd smiled softly, caressed her cheek, squeezed her hands, looked deeply into her eyes, and lied. It was one of the easiest lies he'd ever told, because in many respects it was the absolute truth. He was 100% sure of his decision, and if Jane left him, taking their son, too, of course, he would never know happiness again, so yes, he was happy if Jane was happy.

They'd kissed, and drifted to the bedroom with their lips never apart for more than a second, but Jane had said she still felt "gross," and they'd merely laid there, hands and mouths wandering but without any real intent behind it. Eventually Jane stilled and fell asleep, and Loki set to memorizing her face all over again, reminding himself how lucky he was that she was lying there in his arms and in his bed, and that he must never _ever_ take the love of this incredible woman for granted.

Jane had perked up, full of effervescent excitement and plans for their new home and her renewed career, and seeing her so happy _did_ make him happy.

And so, here they were. Jane had started reestablishing old contacts at universities and private research institutes, in a series of quiet visits to Midgard, while Loki ordered room service, or delivery if Jane left him money for it. Plans were firming up now, and they were here in Loki's least favorite city on Midgard for a couple of meetings Jane had told him about only vaguely.

The adjustment was going to be difficult. He was a potential magnet – or even worse, target – for any number of New Yorkers still justifiably angry over what had befallen their city, and there were no Einherjar around to keep an eye out should any negative attention turn his son's direction while Loki was distracted by an angry mob or an attack. Loki had tentatively raised that one again a couple of weeks ago, and Jane had wavered.

" _Let's see how it goes," she said after mulling it over. "I want him to have a normal life."_

Loki had capitulated. He _was_ capable of protecting his son himself, of course, but the Einherjar would have brought greater peace of mind.

So far, he supposed, as on edge as he was, he had to admit it had gone well. His son had a stubborn, independent streak that was Jane through-and-through, and had taken off with hardly a glance back as soon as they reached the park. He had since completely ignored the nervous father sticking closer to him than any of the other parents – mostly mothers and grandmothers, he had noticed with discomfort – were sticking to _their_ kids. He was even making friends, it seemed, happily playing with a girl with light brown hair, about his age, and getting into a bit of mischief with her on the climbing house. He was probably breaking a rule or two – Midgardians, or at least the Americans, were invested in rules to an irritating degree – but Loki had no intention of intervening. Rules like that truly were made to be broken.

His eyes followed his boy, the little girl running close behind him, to the silly little plastic animals on oversized springs, and watched with amusement as an argument seemed to break out between the two of them. He wasn't close enough to pick up every word, but he was certain he heard his son say, "My daddy has _real_ horses."

He strained his ears to hear what would follow, for watching his child learn and grow was the best part of Loki's life. As much as he loved and needed Jane, this little boy was the center of his world, and without competition the most wonderous and fascinating thing in it. And for something so unquestionably good to have come from him, to _be_ half him…it confounded Loki in ways he would never be able to put to words.

Without being consciously aware of it at first, though, he was listening not to his son's interactions with another Midgardian child, but to the light impact of feet treading over the green matting of the floor. Advancing on him, from behind.

Before turning to assess the person headed his way, he quickly but carefully scanned everything in his field of vision for any threats. He saw none, unless the little girl, hands now on hips, was planning a secret attack. The beginnings of a smile formed, but faded as he twisted slowly to his right.

Approaching him, and now slowing, was the absolute worst person it could possibly be. The thought sent his eyes, behind sunglasses Jane had bought him, on another sweep for the one person he realized would actually be worse – Bruce Banner and his green alter ego – but he saw no one else he recognized, no one else paying him undue attention. Fear gripped his heart then and he carefully twisted back to check on his son and whether anyone was now paying undue attention to _him_. But the crowd from earlier had thinned out, and he still saw nothing of concern.

"Hey, eyes right here, low-life."

Loki turned around to deal with Tony. Someone had to have spotted him, and word of it had somehow reached Tony. Loki knew he wasn't officially hunted here anymore, and thus although he maintained a very low profile when on Midgard, he hadn't been concealing himself from the realm's extensive electronic surveillance. His first mistake. His second had been agreeing to bring his defenseless child here against his better judgement. Jane was a fiercely protective mother, but she didn't understand threats the way Loki did.

"Tony," he said, trying his best to appear non-threatening, and to keep his temper in check over this invasion of his privacy when he'd been doing nothing wrong. "I wish I could say this was a pleasant surprise. In fact, I wish I could say it was a surprise at all."

"No, I'd say it was pretty obvious. Whatever evil plan was behind you showing up here today? Worst plan you've ever had in your long miserable life, and you've had some real doozies of dumb evil plans. So if you don't want to be blasted out of the state, I strongly suggest, no, let's go ahead and say I _insist_ you pack it up and leave here of your own free will while you still have it."

So much for keeping his temper in check. This was a public playground; Jane had assured him as much. This imbecile did not get to dictate where he took his son to play. Evil plans. His biggest evil plan a moment ago was whether to treat his son to an ice cream cone despite Jane warning that he consumed too much sugar. A few new evil plans were coming to mind now, though. "I have a right to come here as much as anyone else, Stark. You know that I was pardoned here due to my role in defeating Thanos."

"Yep. Doesn't mean you get to creep on people's kids. Thought that was kinda clear from, you know, a basic human decency standpoint. Oh, wait, you're not human, are you? Maybe you never picked up human decency, or any other kind. But Lesson One? You don't mess with kids. Period. Got it? Now beat it."

"Creep" on people's kids? Loki didn't even know what Tony was talking about, but he knew it was making him angrier by the second, and it _sounded_ like he was insulting Loki's parentage, and by extension, his son's. Perhaps even his ability to _be_ a parent. Rage boiled inside him, and fear of the consequences of acting on it paralyzed him.

"You seem indecisive. It's not that complicated. But if you need help deciding, trust me, I'm fully prepared to help. I'd just prefer not to have to do that kind of helping around kids. See? Basic human decency."

"You have no understanding of the concept," Loki snapped. The shame of walking away gnawed painfully at him, but for Jane, and for their son, it was the only thing he _could_ do. "But because _I_ do not wish any children to come to harm because of your arrogance, we will leave. And you had best stay away. I will not always be so accommodating."

"We? Who's this 'we'? You don't seriously think you're taking anyone here _with_ you."

Loki stepped forward, pulled off his glasses, drew himself up to his full height to tower over the mortal, weak as an infant without his metal suit. If this puerile fool tried to prevent him from taking his son with him, Jane would just have to forgive him for how he responded, and he thought, most likely, she would. He pressed a finger to the man's chest, his fist soon to follow if needed. "If you try to interfere with me in any way I will ensure your suffering knows no bounds. There exist lines that must not be crossed, Stark, and you are treading dangerously close to one of them right now."

"Okay, I always thought you were a little bit nuts but now I think you must have lost whatever marbles you still had rattling around in your skull. Do you honestly think I would _not_ 'interfere' with you on this? Move on, Loki. If I see you again I'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"You are a despicable, self-righteous, heartless, shameful specimen of your-"

His neck jerked to the side; somewhere off to his left a child was screaming. Not his, but… He spun around; his eyes grew wide in fear. Stark was running. His son was gone.

For a second, Loki was overwhelmed, staring at the place where his child had been just a minute ago. Fear. Guilt. Hatred. Fury. The look on Jane's face when he told her…

Then it all settled. Training, instinct, whatever it was, something took over, and he was running, too, racing after Stark, toward the screaming of the other child that had to be connected. His son came first. _Everything_ else, including the _slow_ and _thoughtful_ revenge he took on Tony Stark, came after.

He was soon on Stark's heels, and in the shadows under a large tree he realized with relief so all-consuming it threatened to send him collapsing to the ground, his son was _right there_ , leaning over the little girl he'd been playing with before. The girl was the one who'd screamed, and was now crying hard, breathing in gasps between the sobs. Stark's attention was on the girl, thankfully, and Loki put his hand out to pull his son away from the area.

"Get your hands off…"

Loki looked down at Stark, whose hand gripped the girl's quivering shoulder, and saw the confusion in his eyes as they went back and forth between him and his son. The confusion shifted into shock and Loki suddenly had his first inkling of what had happened.

"My own son?" he asked, putting as much disdain into the words as they could possibly bear.

* * *

 _Notes_

Probably a mistake to release this on the same day as a _Jane_ chapter; it's probably rather...jarring? Oh, well! :-)

I'm curious what you thought of this; my initial intent was not to repeat all of the dialogue verbatim, but once I started actually writing it, I realized that Loki's perceptions and Tony's perceptions of the dialogue are so different that, in the end, I decided it was worth keeping all the dialogue in place. But the reason I initially didn't want to repeat it was that I didn't want to bore readers and send you skimming instead of reading. If you have a comment on that, I'm genuinely interested, including if the comment is that you *did* find the repetition dull and wound up skimming (you will not hurt my feelings); as a learning experience it would be good for me to have a sense of whether this "works" or not. (The rest of the story isn't repeated like this BTW, only this part, where Loki's and Tony's perceptions are so dissonant.)

So, yeah, the mother of Loki's child is Jane. This was not actually meant to be a surprise, not to the reader anyway, just to Tony (who still doesn't know, in fact). But the problem was, in the "Avengers" fandom category, there's no "Jane" to select as a character, so Loki winds up looking "unpaired" up there next to Tony and Pepper. This story is actually the first of the two I intended for the recent "Lokane Week," though from what I understand it actually got rejected from there, ha, because Jane hadn't appeared yet. Troublesome Jane! :-) She really *should* appear as an "Avengers" character though; she's discussed in both Avengers 1 and 2, and her picture is even shown in Avengers 1. It counts!


	3. Dads

.-.

 _ **Playground**_

 **Chapter 3: Dads**

Loki held out his left arm as a barrier to keep his son away from the lunatic before him. "You thought I wanted to harm _children_?" He was both disgusted and incredulous. What had he ever done to make this man think he would target a children's park for any kind of attack?

"Um…," Tony got out before Loki – apparently the _father_ of the kid he was trying in vain to push behind him – dropped to the bottom of his short list of priorities. "Morgan, talk to me, Pumpkin, are you hurt?" He didn't _see_ any obvious injury, but she wouldn't stop crying, and he was worried. He glanced up at the tree they were under – perfectly climbable for his intrepid little Munchkin, though she knew she wasn't supposed to climb things if he or Pepper wasn't right there to help if needed.

And that was when Loki gained his second inkling of what had happened. This wasn't some random child that Stark thought was in danger from Loki and his "evil plans," this was Stark's child. Stark's child who had been playing with _his_ child. The Man of Iron had no idea Loki was here with his son, was watching his son play and not Stark's daughter. No wonder the man had been so grandiosely belligerent and insistent upon him leaving.

"Were you climbing the tree? Did you fall?"

Morgan's tear-filled blue eyes blinked open and the crying died down to a few sniffles, and Tony smiled his best reassuring everything's-totally-fine-I'm-not-panicking-at-all smile. But Morgan looked past him, to the little boy who'd made his way past Loki's arm…and her eyes went wide and her hand reached out to point.

At the other kid.

Loki's kid.

Tony's eyes slid right past the kid, and upward to Loki. "Your kid pushed my kid?" he asked, seeing not red but green and gold and an ostentatious horned helmet. "Is that really even a kid? Or some kind of real-life Mini-Me. I swear to-"

"Are you threatening my child now? Oliver, stay behind me!"

Morgan let out a shriek that sent Tony's head whipping around again. She was still sprawled on the ground exactly as she had been, and she was still pointing at the boy, who was now hiding behind Loki, one little arm wrapped around Loki's thigh.

Loki stared, perplexed and frankly angry at this little girl. Yes, his son sometimes played roughly. But he couldn't imagine him pushing another child out of a tree. "Ollie," he said, tentatively, twisting to look over his shoulder, only for Ollie to shift to his other leg and hide his face against him. "Ollie, did you push the girl?"

"He didn't push me!" Morgan yelled, now that the crying had stopped. "Something's wrong with his arm!"

"Ollie? Let go," Loki said, disentangling himself and turning to get a better look. And oh… Oh. His face blanched and he dropped down to his knees. "What happened?" His son's left arm was dripping blood, from above the elbow, on the underside. Loki gently grasped his lower arm to pull it away from his body. There was a _hole_ in his arm. Loki stared at it for a moment, aghast, feeling as though a spear had just put a hole in his heart.

But at the same time, his son looked down at his own arm, apparently seeing it for the first time, realizing for the first time that he was hurt. He gave a loud gasp, then burst into tears.

Unable to tear his eyes away from Loki and his son – yeah, that still hadn't sunk in and felt all kinds of wrong – Tony remained crouched next to Morgan. Loki made a motion as though picking an apple, and something was in his hand that wasn't there before. He turned Oliver's arm so that the wound faced upward, then made a fist over it, crushing the thing in his hand and sending dust and debris down onto the wound, which was _crazy_ levels of unsanitary. That wound looked bad – if it had been on _his_ kid the nanotech would be out in a heartbeat and they'd be at the nearest emergency room in the next heartbeat. The wound needed a thorough cleaning, and disinfecting, and stitches, and probably some antibiotics for good measure, and wait, what, where was that wound again?

"There we go," Loki said gently, leaning in close now to try to get Ollie to focus on him instead of the now-healed injury. "See? It's all better. Good as new." Ollie was still crying, though, so Loki kissed his head then pulled him into a hug. He closed his eyes as his head came around behind Ollie's, conscious of Stark's presence there and not wanting to be distracted by it. Only when he felt the stutters in his son's chest cease did he start to pull back again, pressing his lips to the side of his head along the way.

"Papa," Ollie said plaintively, staring down at his arm. The wound was gone, but healing stones didn't take away blood, which was smeared all over Ollie's arm and, Loki was sure, his own shirt now, too. Before he could start crying again, Loki twisted his hand and this time pulled out a moist wipe, which he used to quickly but thoroughly clean his son's arm.

"Did you feel it?" Loki asked, brushing his fingers lightly over the clean skin. With the dreaded blood gone, it shouldn't be too hard to get a smile back on his face.

Ollie nodded.

"What did it feel like? Tell me."

"Like…like a tickle."

"Like a tickle, hm? You mean…like this?"

Ollie's eyes grew wide as Loki dove in, mercilessly dancing long fingers over Ollie's sides, sending his son into a writhing squirming giggling fit. He tried to wrench himself away but Loki managed to keep a hold of his wiggling prey. "Uncle! Uncle Thor!" Ollie shouted, eyes squeezed tight and watering from laughter now instead of tears.

"All right, all right. None of that, now," Loki said, laughing and scooping Ollie up in his arms, his boy's legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Jane had taught him this "uncle" nonsense, and Ollie's innovation had been to tack Thor's name onto it. The first time Loki had heard it, it gave him a minor panic attack. Old habits.

He looked past Ollie, still catching his breath, and saw Stark still there, still crouched down beside the little girl. It was hard to fathom the blustering Man of Iron as a father. The poor child that was stuck with _that_. The poor _woman_ who had borne a child with him!

Tony, watching with a shocked expression that hadn't ever quite gone away, blinked heavily when suddenly the bizarre scene before him resolved into eye contact, specifically eye contact with one incredibly disdainful-looking Loki. With a kid in his arms. Tony shook the whole thing off with a shiver – Loki magic-healing his kid's boo-boo? hugging and kissing him? tickling him breathless until he forgot he'd been hurt? He shook the whole thing off _again_ and this time it took, and he looked back down at Morgan. Who was _still_ sprawled on the ground, which really wasn't like her.

He looked her over for hidden injuries of her own and didn't see any. "Ready to get up, Pumpkin?" he asked, feeling the weight of Loki's stare on him and his daughter. Ugh. He stuck out his hand, Morgan put her little one in his, and he helped her up from the awkward position that would've had him seeing a chiropractor and a physical therapist had he been in it.

"Ow," she said, her face pinching up once she got on her feet.

"What hurts?"

"My ankle."

And oh, boy, the tears were starting to come again. His little Angel was fearless, but she reacted to pain about the same as any other four-year-old.

"Is it just sore? Or does it hurt-hurt?"

"I don't know. It hurts. It hurts a lot."

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

"Yeah, huh?" That was Loki. Loki said that. Loki wanted to "be of some assistance."

"My papa can make it better," Oliver said, twisting around to see Morgan and holding out his unblemished arm. "See?"

"Not always. It depends on the type of injury."

Before Tony could stop her from his awkward crouched position, at least not without accidentally knocking her over, Morgan took off to Loki's side, despite having to hobble and hop to get there, ow-ow-ow-ing with every step. Not just near him, but right next to him, one hand holding onto _Loki's arm_ for balance, the other stretching to poke at the arm Oliver held out to her. Tony got up, and knew his face was contorted into an ugly grimace. He stayed calm by reminding himself that Loki had his own kid in his arms and that kid looked pretty happy to be there. That, and watching him like a hawk for any sort of threatening or even slightly mean-looking movement toward his little girl.

"How'd you do that, mister? Are you a doctor?" she asked, tears still glistening in her eyes.

"I…yes. I suppose you could say that," Loki said, trying out a smile for the child and finding it awkward. He didn't actually like children terribly much. They were often simply insufferable, and he preferred to avoid them. He liked _his_ child, who was immeasurably better than all the rest, the best of two worlds, the best of him, and the best of Jane, _especially_ the best of Jane. "Stark?" he asked. He didn't particularly care for most adults, either, certainly not this one. But he didn't like to see _any_ child in pain, and he even felt some tiny bit of sympathy for Tony Stark. The man may have been a contemptible wretch, but he clearly loved and worried for his child. Every time the poor thing's foot touched the ground she winced or made some small noise of pained protest…her father right along with her.

"Okay, c'mere, Pumpkin," Tony said, deftly scooping her up and away from Loki, careful not to touch the ankle or let it touch anything else. He started off in more or less the direction he'd come in, back over toward the benches.

"Is this really the time for such recalcitrance, Stark?"

"What's recalcitrance?" Morgan called, peering around Tony's side.

"When you won't do what somebody wants you to. Like when Mommy-"

"Ollie. We don't talk about things we-"

"Nobody's being recalcitrant, Rudolph," Tony tossed off over his shoulder. "Didn't say you couldn't come, too."

Loki stared in silence for a moment – he was not that man's _servant_. He didn't even speak to his _actual_ servants like that. Not anymore. Not since Jane had put her foot down. He considered not going. Walking away. Getting Ollie that ice cream cone he'd been planning on earlier. But then Ollie was bouncing excitedly up and down on his hip.

"Can we go help her, Papa? Pleeeease?"

Loki sighed. He hadn't been _seriously_ considering leaving, anyway. "Yes," he said, trudging off and forcing himself to look less conflicted about the whole thing than he felt, "let's go help. I'm proud of you that you want to. Being kind to others is important, especially here on Midgard."

" _Especially here on Midgard?"_ Tony repeated to himself, wondering what _that_ was supposed to mean. Best not to ask, he figured. Loki had pretty clearly had some "issues" when he landed on Terra Firma, and it wasn't like making a donation over a magazine – or however Loki had managed to wind up with an honest-to-goodness kid, one that was kind of cute, even – had a side effect of curing psychosis. He glanced over his shoulder again and saw Morgan's arm out, waving to the kid. He hoped it was to the kid, and not Loki. He didn't look to see if either of them was waving back.

"How come you don't like him, Daddy? He seems nice."

Tony's eyes blew up for a second before a goofy grin settled. A real one seemed too far a stretch, so goofy it was. "I like him just fine, Pumpkin. Just haven't seen him in a while. Bit of a surprise, you know. Running into…old friends at the playground. What about the kid, what's he like? Was he nice to you?"

"Yeah, he's nice."

The next thing he knew Morgan was squirming in his arms and making it a lot harder to make sure nothing hit or even brushed her ankle.

"Daddy," she whispered into his ear.

"Yeah, Pumpkin? Everything okay? If anything bad happened, you tell me, okay?" Tony whispered back.

"He said his daddy has real horses. Do you think he's telling the truth or a lie?"

Tony laughed; he really couldn't help it. "I don't know, Angel. Your guess is as good as mine."

Loki, meanwhile, was trying to shush Ollie, but his boy was having none of it, and Loki couldn't blame him. "I'm not lying!" he called out. "My daddy does have real horses. Lots and lots of them."

" _Oliver,_ " Loki hissed.

"But you do," Ollie said back, quietly, looking hurt.

Loki's irritation, right along with his heart and his will, collapsed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be cross. You're right, I do. _We_ do. You weren't lying. Morgan? Morgan Stark?" he called to the child peering over her father's shoulder. "Oliver was telling you the truth. We do have horses."

"Real ones?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"Yes, real ones," he said evenly. On Asgard the question would have sounded ridiculous, but he knew that they weren't nearly as common these days on Midgard; Morgan had probably seen them more on television than in the flesh. "Maybe not lots and lots," he added, giving Ollie a little tickle to his side, "but we do have them, and we enjoy taking them out for rides."

"I like to feed them!" Oliver called, laughing from the tickling.

"I never fed a horse," Morgan said, and Tony knew a request to feed a real live horse and probably ride one, too, was Coming Soon from a Little Girl Near Him. Which was fine – not like Tony couldn't make that happen within the hour – except that it was prompted by Loki. And how had Loki's kid heard that, anyway? Sure, Morgan wasn't the _most_ silent pre-school-aged whisperer ever, but she'd been pretty quiet.

"Okay, here we go," he said, settling Morgan on the bench, which was high enough that her feet dangled over the ground, her injured ankle not touching anything. Until she reached down and grabbed it.

She let go like it burned her and started to cry a little again.

"Oh, Pumpkin, what did you do that for?"

"I had to find out if it hurts," she said plaintively.

"But you already knew it hurts."

"I had to find out if it _still_ hurts. You don't know until you test it."

"Well, you've got me there," he said, sitting back on his heels, smiling a bit despite the situation. How many times he'd said that to her! "But now you know, so don't do it again, okay, kiddo?"

"Okay," she agreed, rubbing a balled-up fist into her eye.

"And Loki," he continued, pushing up to stand again, "what do you say you and I have a quick word. A little catch-up, a little…chat, hm?"

"All right." Loki got his hands under Ollie's arms and lowered him down. "Be careful of her foot. I'll be right back."

"Can I sit here, too?" he heard his son ask, and watched just long enough to see Morgan nod before turning to follow Stark.

"So, uh…I guess you aren't with that woman that was with the toddler over there by the slide, huh? I thought she was the boy's mom," Tony said as they ambled away, back out toward the playground equipment.

Loki looked over toward the slides; whoever had been there before wasn't there now. "I thought it was well-known among your little troop that I was with Jane Foster."

"Yeah, but that was five or six…years ago…" Huh, Tony thought, not getting much past that. That she was Thor's ex sprang to mind, too, but that had come to an end even longer ago.

"You mean you thought it wouldn't last," Loki said dryly.

"Well, yeah, obviously. I thought she'd wise up and dump your sorry a- posterior," Tony said, glancing behind them and continuing several more steps further away, given the apparent Superhearing of Loki's kid.

Loki stared down the other man. Those days of his earlier encounters with Tony Stark were in the past and he didn't look back – tried not to, at least – but right about now some small part of him couldn't help thinking it would have been nice had the Man of Iron not had the suit of iron quite so handy that day Loki had tossed him out a window. But Tony could join a long line; almost everyone had thought Jane would leave him, a few had thought he'd grow bored and leave _her_ , and only a miniscule handful had thought that maybe it would actually last.

"Do you want me to try to heal your daughter or not?" Loki asked when he grew tired of waiting. "Astoundingly, I don't enjoy your constant insults, but I especially don't enjoy them in front of my son."

"Okay, we're _physically_ in front of him, but can he _still_ hear this far away?"

After taking a quick look back at Ollie, Loki said, "Not if you don't raise your voice."

"Good. Okay. Let's make this real, huh? There's a walk-in-clinic four blocks away." Not that he was taking his kid there, but still, it _was_ there. "And with the suit I could get her to the best hospital in the Tri-State in just a few minutes more. I don't even think it's that bad, or she'd be in a lot more pain. But I can't stand to see her in _any_ pain, and whatever you did for your kid's arm, well, that's way better and _way_ faster than what any ER here could do.

"But here's the thing. You could snap one of my bones and it wouldn't hurt me as bad as somebody giving her a _paper_ cut. And I've heard you've changed, but you used to throw people out of skyscrapers for a living. People named Stark, to be specific. And you may say you wouldn't hurt a kid, but there were kids in New York that day, you know. So…if you can fix her ankle and make it stop hurting her instantaneously..." He paused and took a deep breath. "This isn't easy for me," he said quietly.

That smarted, but still Loki took it in stride. He knew what people thought of him here; it was one of the reasons he hadn't been keen on moving to Midgard. One of the _main_ reasons. Setting that aside, he took a moment to imagine their positions being reversed, him trying to reconcile himself with entrusting the safety of his son, for whom he would lay down his life with no hesitation and no regrets, to Tony Stark. It was easier now than it once had been; Jane had helped. "I understand your concern," he finally said. "I was just as afraid when I saw you as you were when you saw me. And it wasn't because I have any fear of you on behalf of myself. Considering that if I put enough effort into it, I could probably literally break you in half."

"Not with the suit," Tony grumbled, glancing over his shoulder to check on Morgan, who was happily chatting away with Oliver Son-of-Loki.

"You aren't wearing the suit."

"Suit's all built around nanotechnology now. I'm basically _always_ wearing the suit."

Loki scrutinized the man before him, and found an emblem on his shirt that was a little shinier than he might expect, and, yes, was emitting a steady low stream of energy. He filed it away for future reference. "Trust isn't easy, and in your place I would worry as well. This is why I asked your permission instead of simply acting. I would never _knowingly_ hurt a child, Stark. And I would be pleased to help Morgan heal more quickly, if I can."

Tony looked back one final time. Morgan was miming something with her arms stretched up and her fingers wiggling; Oliver was laughing. Yeah, Loki had as much at stake in all this as he did. And he'd seen the way his old enemy had paled at the sight of Oliver's wound. How he'd distracted and comforted him. Loki loved his kid. "I'll be watching."

"I would question your competence as a parent if you didn't."

The two started back without another word; Tony was too nervous to dwell on – much less comment on – the surreal idea of Loki judging anyone's parenting skills.

"Doctor Loki at your service, Morgan."

"Yay!" Morgan shouted, bouncing on the bench and kicking her legs wildly, until one hit the other and she flinched and let out a pained "ow" in time with Tony's wince and fell still.

At Loki's instruction – Loki's _instruction_ – Tony crouched down to hold Morgan's right leg up from the ground. As he did so, he saw his Pumpkin's hand slipping into Oliver's, and had to remind himself that she was _four_ and not fourteen and it didn't mean anything when two four-year-olds held hands, not even when the other four-year-old was Loki's son.

"All you have to do is stay still for me, Morgan," Loki said as he got to his knees before the child. He smiled, watching as she started to nod but then clearly decided that nodded was moving and quickly stopped.

"How're you doing, Pumpkin?" Tony asked, taking her other hand and glancing up just long enough to check for any sign of fear or discomfort or God forbid pain on her face before again fixing his eyes on Loki's hands hovering around her ankle. No magic devices thus far, just hands.

"There we go. How's that? Want to stand up and give it a test?"

"No, no, no, wait right there," Tony said, hand going to Morgan's middle. "You haven't even done anything yet."

Loki stood and looked down his nose at Stark. "It was only a sprain, one simple enough for me to repair it. I would recommend no excessive jumping for the rest of the day."

Morgan's leg started wriggling in Tony's hand. "It doesn't hurt when I move it." She dropped Oliver's hand and reached down, past Tony's halting efforts to stop her, and wrapped her hand around it. "It doesn't hurt when I touch it." She slid right off the bench as Tony released her leg and stepped back to allow it. "It doesn't hurt when I stand on it. All tests successful, Daddy!"

"I told you he could make it better," Ollie said, standing up too.

"Your daddy's a really good doctor."

"Yeah…Dr. Loki," Tony said with a dazed smile. He didn't understand what just happened, except that his kid wasn't in pain anymore, and that was good enough for him.

Ollie was giggling, and Loki leaned down to stretch an arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. "He's not really Dr. Loki. He's _Prince_ Loki."

"Oh, God," Tony muttered just as Morgan's eyes popped open like saucers. Her love for playing mechanical engineering and AI-assisted 3-D modeling was topped only by her love for Disney princesses. He could almost see the cartoon-drawing red hearts pouring out of her eyes as she stared up at Loki like he was better than Santa Claus and all his elves and every last reindeer and the Easter Bunny and even the Tooth Fairy all rolled up into one with bags full of presents just for her and why didn't he take her to that carousel this morning instead of the playground, anyway?

"You're really a prince? Really really?"

"Really really," Ollie agreed.

"Not on…not in the United States. Remember, Ollie, we must take care what we say here."

Ollie gave an unhappy full-body sigh.

"Well…we don't have princes here," Morgan said, shifting into lecturing mode, something she did more and more lately, something that occasionally caused friction between her and other kids. Tony understood; he'd gone through a phase like that, too. Pepper liked to remind him he'd never completely left that phase, which was maybe not setting the _best_ example for their Angel. "We don't have princesses, either," Morgan was continuing. "Not real ones. Disney World has them, but they aren't really real, they're regular people playing pretend. But other countries have them, right, Daddy?"

"Right, Pumpkin," Tony said weakly.

"Like England."

"Uh-huh."

"And Australia."

"Ummmm…"

"And Asgard!" Ollie piped up.

"All right," Loki said quickly, best diplomatic smile on his face. "I believe Morgan is fine now, and it's time for us to get lunch. It was a pleasure to meet you, young Morgan Stark. Ollie, say goodbye."

Morgan's eyes shot open past saucers and straight to dinner plates, with a side dish of desperation, and Tony knew what was coming before she said a word. She had a really-real prince in her grasp and no way was she letting him get away that easy.

"But you can't go!"

Loki watched with something approaching astonishment as the little girl dashed toward him and grabbed his hand, tugging with all her childish might. When he looked up, Tony Stark's gaze was also rising to his; the man looked…concerned. Before either of them could react, though, Ollie's hand found his free one.

"Do we have to? Can we keep playing? I'm not hungry."

"I'm hungry," Morgan declared, and Loki's heart ached at how crestfallen Ollie looked. He hadn't wanted to believe it, or perhaps more to the point acknowledge it, but Ollie was growing up lacking something Loki had never lacked in his childhood: a constant friend and playmate. And on Midgard he had no friends at all, not yet. Morgan was his first. Why in all the Nine Realms did it have to be Morgan _Stark_?

Stark was fussing over his daughter, triple-checking that her ankle was truly healed and probably that Loki hadn't secretly put a curse on the child while he was at it, when Morgan piped up again. "Can they come to lunch with us?"

* * *

 _Notes_

Current plan is one more "integral" chapter, plus that additional one I mentioned before. Blame Loki and Tony on it going long. Okay, let's be honest, you can blame me, too. But I will still blame Loki and Tony.

Thanks to all those who've dropped in a comment, faved, followed, etc. Hope you enjoy this chapter...which I thought I'd be getting out in November! "LittleRedDot" - some portion of what you raised will indeed be covered...spoiler-free so that's all I can say. To tell you the truth this is a universe I wouldn't at all mind continuing to play in. It has an endpoint, but it's the type of thing I could imagine going back in later and dropping in another chapter kind of randomly. :-)

On the name: It was my thinking that Loki & Jane would want a name that worked on both realms, modeled on married friends of mine who are from two different countries and first languages, they wanted the child's name to "sound good" in both countries. In Old Norse texts there's a name Olver/Olvir, close to Oliver, and there is also the name Oli, which is actually the short form of Olaf, not Olver/Olvir. I think Jane and Loki would both like Oliver, as well as Ollie, which is they usually call him (just adjusted for spelling from "Oli"). I got these names from the Viking Answer Lady website, BTW, not from personal knowledge.

Oh! And can your arm get punctured without you realizing it? Yep. Happened to me. I didn't know 'til some kid pointed at my arm and started crying.


End file.
